


Clutch My Wedding Ring In a Cheater's Hands

by Cant_We_Just_Dance



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Anniversaries, Cheating, Forgetting an anniversary, Heartbreak, Infidelity, Like, M/M, Vague Sex, realllllllllllly vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 11:18:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12431697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cant_We_Just_Dance/pseuds/Cant_We_Just_Dance
Summary: The silence is overwhelming. Maybe it could have been filled with the wedding ring that John Laurens had previously worn on his ring finger.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is @jamisahivemind from over on tumblr! Make sure to comment, kudos, and hang out with me over on the hellsite!
> 
> Inspired by @styxetal's AMAZING Burn animatic!!!

In these moments, the world is quiet. Mocking you with its silence, it dances around your questions, tying silken sheets woven through deceit around them until it smothers you. When you beg and plead for it to come back to you, longing for the soothing noises of life- that is when it silences, the most all-encompassing quiet one will ever hear.

And it’s almost funny, in a way. After all, the worst silence of all is empty silence, one that had used to carry gentle whispers and quiet promises. Footsteps treading up the stairs in boots that remained caked in dark mud even after wiping them off on the doormat. Stairs creaking with each bit of added weight. Heavy breaths as they climbed up to their bedroom and found solace in the arms of their lover, legs getting caught in the softness of the bedsheets below them and twisted around giggles.

Now? The bed was simply a place to sleep which John had no use for. It was definitely more comforting than the pullout sofa in the living room, but John would rather sleep where he hadn’t seen his husband’s co-worker pulling his dick out his said husband. Of course, Alexander hadn’t noticed that John had walked in on them, and had wrapped his legs around Thomas’s waist, attempting to pull him back close until Thomas motioned over at John and Alexander’s face went pale. Alexander had sat up, covering his lower body with the blankets as he stammered through an apology or an explanation or some random bullshit- John wasn’t listening, anyway. He was a little bit too busy smashing things in their bedroom.

First went the picture of them on their first date, torn in two pieces, tearing apart the paper and ink that had once represented the beginning of something that they thought would last forever- well, at least what John had thought would last forever. Next was the picture frame that held a sweet little collage of anniversary pictures, shattered into a thousand pieces that were now strewn all around the floor. It had been a gift from Alexander after seven years, and John had treasured it ever since, making sure to polish it each and every Sunday night. Now, the shining glass sparkled like teardrop diamonds on the ground. The third, and final thing John managed to throw was the wedding ring that had previously seemed like a permanent addition to his hand. Tossing it over to the bed, it landed by Alexander, right next to the hand that wore a matching gold band.

And in the next moment, three things happened at exactly the same time.

Alexander curled in on himself, sobbing quietly as he clutched John’s wedding ring in the base of his palm, sure to leave a red mark just as irritated as John was anger-filled.

John, with freckles that sparked along his face like embers, screamed red-hot fury at Alexander, expletives and horrible words that no self-respecting writer would ever write into their story.

And Thomas? Thomas stood and grabbed John by the arms, trying his best to prevent the other man from seriously injuring Alexander, who lay crying on the bed, tightly clutching a small ring.

John pushed against Thomas in futile attempt to escape but found it entirely too hard. So John turned his gaze to the other hard thing in front of him, and kicked it with all the force he possibly could, the steel-toed ends of his boots hitting a part of Thomas’s body that was rather unpleasant to be hit in.

Thomas screamed a rather high-pitched scream and keeled over, tightly squeezing his eyes shut. With heavy footsteps, John turned and walked over to the edge of the bed that held a sobbing mess formerly known as Alexander Hamilton. The mess on the bed turned its gaze upwards with tears in its eyes, prepared to see an angry man ready to scream at it- but that’s not what Alexander saw.

Instead, the sight before him was one that Alexander had seen many times before, but one that he had never been the direct cause of. Until now. John’s eyebrows were furrowed, framing pleading eyes that shone with unshed tears that glimmered against the sunlight shining through the half-closed curtains that adorned the bedroom windows. His entire body was shaking, and his mouth half-open, as though he were lacking the words that he so desperately wished he could find the strength to utter. A single tear ran down his cheek, streaking the freckled skin with melted diamonds.

“...John?” Alexander whispered, voice hoarse for reasons that John had no wish to know. “...Jacky, I-”

“You don’t get to call me that,” John stated, plain and simple without a trace of empathy or emotion in his voice, despite the expression that had found its way onto his face. “Not anymore. Not after… All this. How long have you been fucking him?”

“I-I’ve only fucked him today, John, I swear,” Alexander promised, eyes wide with desperation as he clung to any semblance of the idea that John could love him, that John would ever love him after what he’d done. That, however, did not mean in the slightest that Alexander regretted his decisions.

“You fucked him today, in our bed,” John confirmed, sighing exasperatedly and running a hand through his hair. “You had sex with a man you claim to hate, and you did it in our marriage bed. On our anniversary.”

“Wh-what?” Alexander stammered, clutching John’s ring tighter in his shaking hands. “O-our anniversary isn’t until-”

“Today. It’s today, and your gift was going to be amazing because that’s what couples do after ten years of being together. But why did I even bother? I thought you wouldn’t get me anything, but I guess I was wrong. You have decided to delight me with the most intense heartbreak I’ve ever experienced. Congratulations, fuckface.”

And without another word, John left the house that he had once thought to be his home.


	2. Chapter 2

In these moments, the world was a false cacophony of chaotic noise, each unspoken syllable blending into broken sobs across the universe of equally broken promises.

Shattered glass crunching beneath his feet every time he dreamed. Drawing blood that painted a picture of pain that was merely physical for Alexander, despite the intense wave of emotional distress that he had caused his husband. 

His husband. 

But John wasn’t his husband anymore, now was he?

Sure, they had been married for five years, together for ten. John had proposed on their fourth anniversary, a magical night with string lights strung up in the branches of the trees thanks to John’s friend from college owning the restaurant they went to. He’s gotten down on one knee when Alexander had been observing the paintings on the walls and had been so distracted that John had had to tap him on the leg gently in order to get his attention. After sitting still in shock, eyes wide, Alexander had managed to listen to John’s speech about how he wasn’t the one of them that was particularly skilled with a pen, but he was going to try anyway.

The speech hadn’t been as eloquently constructed as the one Alexander would have written, but it got the point across well enough. Alexander nodded, holding back tears in his eyes as John smiled nervously and slipped the ring onto his boyfriend-now-fiance’s finger.

John began to cry tears of joy as well, once Alexander pulled a ring box out of his pocket and grinned sheepishly, apologizing for not being the first one to do this tonight, but he might as well.

They’d promised each other, in their wedding vows, that the story of their proposal would be told to their future children. Despite not having children throughout their marriage, they swore that it would happen eventually, even if they weren’t quite sure when ‘eventually’ would be. 

But now? As Alexander sat at his desk, head in hands and hair hopelessly tangled and disheveled? Now, eventually meant when he would be receiving the divorce papers in the mail. When John would figure out where Alexander was staying and send him the documents, already signed by the other man, the closest Alexander would ever get to kissing him again being the spit that sealed the envelope shut.

Maybe John wouldn’t even wait to mail them. Perhaps John would just visit Alexander’s office during the hours he worked and force him to sign the papers, unwilling to listen to anything the other man would attempt to say or plead for.

The very thought terrified Alexander, sending shivers down his spine that chilled to the bone.

Jefferson had attempted to make small talk with Alexander in the break room over a cup of coffee, but Alexander had refrained from a conversation with the other man, sure that it would only help against his hope of reuniting with his husband. It was almost as if he was under the impression that John watched over him like a guardian angel that refused to protect him unless deemed worthy. Not that he would admit to such a belief, anyway, so it would be of no use to try interrogating him on the matter- unless of course, it was John Laurens-Hamilton. 

But that wasn’t what question John would ask Alexander, now was it? Instead, John would most likely inquire as to what Alexander’s motive was, in having sex with his so-called enemy. Whether he felt guilt from his actions or not- not guilt from the consequences, but the actions themselves.

And that? That was a question to which the answer was unknown to Alexander himself.

Thinking back, he supposed that guilt was something that he should be feeling. The deep, cutting shame was not something he found himself wearing proudly, and yet… Guilt didn’t quite find it’s way to such a level in his mind, nor did it reach such elevations in the heart that he claimed to have.

The memory of Thomas’s hands on his skin, dark and gentle like nightfall did not cause him to curl in on himself and shut his eyes tight enough that it would hold back tears. If anything, it made him crave another encounter. Something not quite as rushed, without the nagging thought in the back of his mind that he shouldn’t be doing this, what if they get caught, what if his husband walks in? But he didn’t have a husband anymore, now did he?

So maybe Alexander wouldn’t have to be concerned with the way each of Thomas’s kisses made him shiver just the smallest bit, as if it sent ripples throughout the melted puddle that was his mind. Perhaps the very idea of being pulled into the nearest supply closet during lunch break was a bit more than simply repulsive to Alexander. Thomas’s lips like bubble gum-flavored silk, his touches like the feeling when you run away from lighting a firework- those small things didn’t have to be accompanied by fear.

And if Alexander stood from his desk and tucked the papers into folders and shoved them haphazardly in his desk drawers, who needed to know? Absolutely no one- which was also who should be concerned about Alexander hitting the call button on his office landline and politely asking the secretary to send Thomas Jefferson in.

Readjusting his tie and smoothing his hair out, Alexander propped himself up on his desk, fully prepared to wipe away his negative emotions in the best way he knew how. And absolutely no one needed to know about it.

Especially not his ex-husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please please PLEASE comment and kudos! It really helps encourage me and know what my readers like!


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